It's My Party
by MusicMaven09
Summary: Jeff peered around the corner, and sure enough, the ugly duckling in the awful dress was curled up against the wall crying into her arms. She angrily tore the tiara off her head and threw it into the bushes. "Hey, what'd that crown ever do to you?"


Jeff didn't know how he'd let himself get talked into this absurd errand. Well, that was a lie. He knew exactly why he was here.

One of the partners at his new firm (Alan, a total sleazeball) had the hots for one of Jeff's clients, a shrill woman who had recently received a generous alimony settlement thanks to him. Jeff didn't see the attraction, because while she was very much in shape, her pinched face and perpetually sour expression erased any shred of sex appeal she might have otherwise possessed. Nevertheless, when she had extended an invitation to her daughter's bat mitzvah, he had accepted so Alan could tag along and have a chance to ingratiate himself. Then again, going to these lengths to prove himself as a team player could only help him secure a promotion in the future.

Upon entering the reception hall, Jeff eyed the white tablecloths, fine china, and impeccable floral arrangements with disapproval. He had never attended any type of "mitzvah" before, but the formal atmosphere and percentage of guests over the age of thirty hinted that perhaps the party was less for the daughter than the mother. Nevertheless, he did his best to repress his very strong feelings about bad parents, and when the former Mrs. Edison welcomed him, the Winger charm was fully engaged.

He made a great show of introducing Alan, talking him up, and doing his best to keep a straight face when the man feigned modesty as Jeff sang his praises. When the two of them had spoken enough to constitute an actual conversation, Jeff made a show of excusing himself to grab some punch.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the lone children's table. The birthday girl sat in a ruffly pink dress with a tiara on her head, looking like she would rather be anywhere else. The few other children at the table were ignoring her, and unless children had changed a lot since his day, he would guess that the glasses, braces, frizzy hair and few extra pounds that stretched the gaudy, iridescent fabric she was wearing secured her the status of unpopular. He might have felt a little sorry for her, but he wasn't here to babysit. Instead he took advantage of all the bored and visibly wealthy adults sipping on champagne and introduced himself. There was never a wrong time to network, after all.

As the napkins with hastily scribbled contact information piled up, he decided to step outside and add the new numbers to his phone. The cool night air was a welcome relief from the stuffy hall where the over-worked heater and the crowd threatened to make him actually sweat. He had saved ages for this Armani suit, and it was not worth ruining just so Alan could get laid. He took a deep breath and, considering there wasn't much for him to do inside, contented himself to enjoy the light breeze and welcome quiet.

Well, almost quiet. He could hear some movement around the corner, some sniffles followed by full-blown crying. It didn't take a psychic to guess who it was. A mental debate quickly erupted weighing the benefits of comforting some strange kid and the effort that would be required to at the very minimum not makes things worse. When the sobs began incorporating a sort of high-pitched whine, he finally gave in to his softer side.

He peered around the corner, and sure enough, the ugly duckling in the awful dress was curled up against the wall crying into her arms. She angrily tore the tiara off her head and threw it into the bushes.

"Hey, what'd that crown ever do to you?" A gasp of surprise interrupted her keening as she looked up at him from her seat on the ground.

"Nothing. That's the problem." Her sniffles abated as she mustered enough composure to speak. Jeff motioned to the ground next to her.

"May I?" She nodded, and he did his best to sit in a way that would preserve the pristine appearance his suit. He twisted comically while trying to find such a position, and she laughed at his theatrics. "What? If you had a suit this nice, you wouldn't want to get it dirty either." Although she was obviously amused by his fruitless attempts, she pushed herself off the ground and stood up.

"Maybe we can both stand, then."

"Very thoughtful of you." He had managed to elicit a smile but not long passed before she was leaning against the brick exterior of the building and staring morosely down at her black patent heels. "So what brings you out here?" She eyed him warily.

"This is supposed to be my party. Instead my mom did everything the way she wanted, right down to inviting only the people she wanted to invite. I mean, I don't even know you."

"Uh, I'm your mom's lawyer," he explained.

"For the divorce," she clarified.

"Yeah." He grimaced, expecting some sort of negative reaction. Divorces were always hard on the kids. He knew that better than most. Instead of erupting into tears again or even hitting him, which given the circumstances would not have fazed him, she just sighed.

"I'm glad they got divorced," she admitted. He knew his forehead was…larger than most, but he was sure his eyebrows must have risen to his hairline with that statement.

"Really?" She nodded.

"They were both cheating on each other, and they would fight all the time. When Dad got angry, he would hole himself up in his office and not talk to either of us. Sometimes for days. Mom would just yell at me, about grades or living up to my potential. Of course, she's still doing that, so maybe that's just the way things are going to be from now on."

"That sucks. You having trouble in school?"

"No. But I made a B on one of my tests earlier this year. I fell asleep during it, because they kept me up the whole night before with their arguing. Of course, bringing that up is only 'refusing to take responsibility'," she said with air quotes. Her imitation of her mother's voice was uncanny.

"Parents are the worst," Jeff sympathized. She nervously fiddled with one of the ruffles on her dress before looking up at him sadly.

"Yeah, but I was hoping my dad would be here. He said he would."

"I'm sorry he's not."

"Maybe it's a good thing. This whole evening has been one humiliation after another. It's probably better that he's not around to witness it."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I don't have any friends," she shot back bitterly. "That the only people who are here only showed up because their parents made them. They've been making fun of me all night, brainstorming on mean things to call me while I'm sitting at the same table. My mom forced me into this hideous dress that looks like a relic from a John Hughes movie, and it couldn't be more obvious that this whole thing is her trying to prove that she wasn't crippled by the divorce. I'd rather I didn't have a party than have to endure this one." She paused to catch her breath. "And I know everyone's going to be talking about it on Monday, going on about how lame it was that they had to go and how boring it was and what a loser I am. It's just salt in the wound."

Jeff watched her sink into herself and took in the aura of dejection that surrounded her like a force field. He didn't consider himself a good person, but he'd been in her shoes before. He couldn't rewrite history for himself, but maybe he could help her.

"Why don't we go show them that they're wrong?"

"Huh?"

"They only win if you let them. Why don't you go out there and stop worrying about what they think and have a good time?" She eyed him skeptically.

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"Care to dance?" He held out his arm to escort her, and the timid way she reached for it, almost as if he might snatch it back any second, twisted his insides just a little. He walked slowly, giving her a chance to wipe away her tears and put on a brave face, and by the time he led her back into the hall and to the dance floor, she had managed to produce a bright, if fake, smile.

They sauntered to the dance floor, which was sparsely occupied, and he made a grand show of bowing and asking for her hand to dance.

"Milady." She took his hand and giggled.

"Milord." A slow Five for Fighting song started playing over the speakers, and he held back a smile when he felt her shiver when he placed his hand on her waist and her palm begin to sweat when he took it in his own. They swayed with the song's lethargic beat, and he made sure to maintain enough distance to ward off any allegations of disreputable behavior. He chatted with her easily, cracking jokes so she would laugh and put on a good show for her peers who were watching from the sideline with curious eyes.

When the song was over, he graciously offered to get her a cup of punch, making a slight detour by the boys he had noticed at her table earlier. They recognized him as the man dancing earlier but also seemed a little bit in awe of him. He smirked. He always knew he looked good in a suit.

"Oh are you friends with the birthday girl?" He asked casually, doing his best to side-step the fact that he didn't even know the kid's name. Really, asking at this point would just be embarrassing. Knowing he was friendly with her, they wisely chose to curb their less polite responses.

"We go to school together," one of them answered diplomatically. Jeff smiled.

"Oh yeah, I remember my high school days. You know I actually met my first love at a bat mitzvah." The lie dripped off his tongue easily and had the intended effect of piquing their curiosity.

"Really?"

"Absolutely. Of course, she was a bit of an ugly duckling, you could say. But boy does puberty treat girls well. By the time I knew I wanted to get with her, she had already moved on. Moved to New York actually to do some modeling." He infused his story with some casual hand gestures, as if he'd told the story of his long-lost love dozens of times.

"Modeling?" One boy asked suspiciously.

"Mmhmm," he replied, cool as a cucumber. "Puberty can be very good to some girls. I should've snapped her up while I had the chance. It's just one of those lessons everyone learns too late, I guess," he mused before pretending to look abashed. "Listen to me, boring you with my regrets. I'm actually pretty satisfied with life. I love being a lawyer, got a great place, just bought a new Lexus, I have women throwing themselves at me left and right," he joked, pleased to note that rather than be annoyed by his bragging, they seemed enthralled. "But part of me will always wonder what could have been." He released a wistful sigh. "It doesn't matter though. She belongs to Victoria's Secret now." The boys' eyes grew wide as saucers. "Listen, I'm going to get back to the birthday girl. You gentlemen have a good evening." He hadn't taken two steps before they formed a huddle and whispered phrases like "Victoria's Secret" and "Do you think?" emerged.

He found her sitting at a table, fending off questions from the other girls, who seemed to be hanging on every word she said while sneaking glances at him. The cup of punch he brought her had only just reached her hands when one of the boys from earlier approached and asked her to dance. In her surprise, she almost spilled her drink, but Jeff deftly caught it and gave her a wink. After that, she danced with a few more of her guests; some of the girls even joined her during one of the faster numbers. Jeff continued to mingle but checked the dance floor every so often to see her enjoying herself.

Eventually Alan found him and begrudgingly revealed that he had struck out with the obnoxious divorcee, and they agreed it was time to leave. He was following Alan out when he felt a small hand grab his wrist to stop him. He turned around to see the still nameless birthday girl, smiling from ear to ear. He couldn't help but smile back.

"Are you leaving?" She asked.

"Yep. My friend's ready to go," he explained. She gave him a knowing grin.

"You mean my mom wasn't interested?" He was a little taken aback, but given how insightful she had proven herself earlier, he couldn't be entirely surprised.

"You are very observant." She rolled her eyes.

"He was very obvious." Jeff laughed.

"He usually is. I do have to go though, so I bid you adieu."

"You can't stay any longer?" She gazed up at him with big blue eyes only partly obscured by her thick glasses and if he would ever admit that he had a heart, he would have to confess that she was melting it.

"Those Disney eyes of yours are dangerous. Use them wisely." They laughed, but soon her shyness re-emerged.

"I don't know what you said to those boys, but thank you. This party was on track for being the worst night of my life, and instead you've made it the best." He knew the fondness he had for this girl was evident, but he couldn't help himself. He bent over and kissed her hand.

"Anytime, milady." Before he could stand back up she had lifted onto her tiptoes and planted a kiss squarely on his cheek. A bright blush spread across her face. "Hey, missy, watch yourself. I don't want to have to start checking over my shoulder for Chris Hansen everywhere I go." He was only half-joking.

"I won't be twelve forever," she flirted with an exaggerated wink.

"Alright, then why don't you give me a call in ten years?" She blushed again.

"Plan on it." He took a few more steps towards the door then turned for a parting word.

"Have a good night, princess!" She waved back enthusiastically.

When Jeff slipped into the driver's seat a minute later, Alan was already whining about how this whole endeavor was a giant waste of time, but Jeff couldn't bring himself to pretend to agree. He passed the front door as he drove away and could just make out a girl in a pink satin dress, surrounded by a sea of taffeta, talking animatedly to an attentive audience. No, he thought, the evening wasn't a waste at all.

**A/N: **So, the idea with this story is that it took place before Jeff was well and truly entrenched in the greedy lawyer mindset. It's pretty much a one-shot. I've got a little bit more written, and if I can shape it up to work a bit better, I'll post it.

Also, I don't own Community, and if I did, I'd probably just give it to Dan Harmon so he could crowdfund the crap out of it without worrying about copyrights or oversight.


End file.
